


The Hushed Whispers Aboard

by Ruby_JW



Category: Kirk/Spock - Fandom, Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series, spirk - Fandom
Genre: M/M, kirk/spock spirk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 15:11:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7468503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruby_JW/pseuds/Ruby_JW





	1. Among Friends

 

  
\---

 

 

  
  
**Among Friends**

 

 

 

**\---**

  
  
  
  
"…yes Mr. Scott, I understand. But he informed _me_ that he was going to follow me up! Now I don’t know about you, but I believe an hour is a pretty long grace period."

 

"Captain we’re doin’ everythin’ we can down herre-"

 

  
  
"Leiutenant Uhura- any word through communications?"

  
  
"None, Captain- nothing to report so far." She answered dutifully. When her glance managed to catch that stricken brief flicker of tension in Jim’s eyes, her voice returned to him softer, with more remorse. "I’m sorry, sir."

  
Jim nodded in her direction, fighting down that dreaded impending doom; that horrible feeling in his gut that regrettably felt like himself, sinking into something he would never pull out of.

 

His eyes flickered to the science station, at the yellow clad back positioned there, facing him. Testing him. _Taunting_ him.

__  
Temporary.  
Only temporary.

  
It was unbearable, and yet he sat there, waiting… or was he just wasting precious time? He hadn’t noticed that his fingers were tapping until the Yeoman beside his chair absently stilled his fingers. His free hand smacked the com button and summoned him a channel into the Transporter room again.

  
"Mr., _Scott_?" The voice was more tense now, stretching out the words like strained elastic.

  
"I’m sorry, Captain- but I just canna work any faster than this."

 

_  
That culture down there is ruthless. **Ruthless** …_

 

  
His guts were clenching.  
So, here it was. One of those many’ greatest tests of faith and willpower’ moments in his lifetime. He wasn‘t even certain if he was winning this or not. Wasn’t sure if he could care how he appeared to be right now, he just wanted to _make things happen_. What more could he be doing? The helplessness was his most hated of all feelings, when he was sitting in the command chair.

He needed to make _miracles_ happen- right there on the bridge, God dammit, or straight from Scotty’s fingertips. Come _on_. Just **one** last time…

 

_  
Just one last time. Make me one lucky son of a bitch just one, last, time…Christ. I’m losing myself, and I’m on the bridge. I’ve got to do **some** thing. I can’t let this go any further. 400 people…_

  
His eyes winced shut for a moment, taking the brief beating to his insides as best as he could. And oh, how he **could** in times like this. He had been asked about it many times before… but honestly, he didn’t even _know_ where it was kept inside of himself- that part of him that this incredible shield came from, that prowess of bravery… he was merely thankful it had chosen him. His poker face was one that would earn him many chapters in earth’s history books. And he let it settle in place, even in the fear, in the madness. And he got through. And he would now, he _would_ , if he could just **know** … if he could just hear one word…

  
This is not just about Spock.

  
Oh God. It _hurt_ …

_  
You are responsible for the lives of over 400 people aboard this ship right now, and you’ll just submit to this madness?!_

_…400 people need a level head. Oh God. It’s logical._

  
Jim stood from the Captain’s chair in a fluid motion, swift, his expression level and controlled.

  
"Mr. Sulu, you have the comm. Mr. Scott, I‘ll be seeing you in a few minutes. Leiutenant Uhura, keep every frequency open, and alert me of any attempts of communication promptly."

  
"Aye, Captain."

 

  
"As you wish sir."

There were duties to be performed, and there was not a soul stationed upon the bridge that would permit Jim’s abrupt leave to distract them from their craft. Nobody needed to feel alarm at his behaviour, as they all knew him well. And in knowing Jim well, nobody felt any reason to doubt him. All personnel carried out their tasks diligently, as though they were merely maintaining standard orbit around a Starbase… not a hostile planet in the midst of a very personal rescue attempt.

After all.

Risk was their business.

  
  
\---

  
Bones stood inside the transporter room, internally panicking- and showing it by his lack of expression. The Doctor was at his most silent and helpless, when he didn’t have it in him to utter words. His worrisome nature had strangled any words on his typically busy tongue. He didn’t even have the heart to scowl, as he simply let his eyes fall to the transporter pad. The one that should start forming the distinct shape of that pointy eared bastard any time _soon_ now, before his God damn head exploded. His hands felt shaky, so he opted for holding them behind his back- hiding the evidence.

 

__  
  
If he went and got himself killed, I am going to damn that logic he loves so much **straight** to hell.

 

  
  
Either he was going to snap, or Jim was going to get here first and do it for him. His eyes shifted back toward the door, not being the only man watching it in the room.

Scotty, too, had his eyes passing between his talented hands quick work and the transporter room door. His typically lively face was rather uncharacteristically deadpan, and grim. The hardness in his eyes was not one to be reckoned with. His voice very suddenly filled the quiet room, crisp and professional.

 

  
"That’ll do, lad. Yer dismissed, Patrick." He nodded his head toward the young red shirt standing at the console with him. His well trained eyes kept up an intense relationship with the door and the transporter console. He didn’t see the hesitation, the steadily increasing look of bafflement gracing the young mans face.

  
"But Mr. Scott-"

  
"Dismissed, ensign." The Scottish brogue returned, gentle yet no nonsense. He was not questioned again, as the ensign nodded in respect to the Senior Officers order and walked from the transporter room. Bones exchanged a quick look with the ships Chief Engineer.

"He’ll get over it. It’s for the best." The Doctors voice quietly rumbled in the stinging silence. "When he gets here-"

  
"Oh I know **just** how he’ll be when he arrives, make no mistake. I’m goin’ like lightenin’ ere…"

  
They waited in the tense quiet, Scotty‘s frantic but calculated adjustments filling the room with little clicks and whirs. Any minute now and…

  
  
Fsssst!

 

Not even a heartbeat.

 

"Mr. Scott?"  
 

"Still working on it, Captain-"  
 

"Scotty…" Kirk’s voice was lower, reluctant. He approached the console gingerly, ready to enforce the urgency of the situation, but was intercepted by the Good Doctor. McCoy took a moment to take in the expression, reading it to better assist with what he should say next. He saw that Jim’s face was serious, Captainly… the very face of what Starfleet Command represented. Anyone who looked upon that stern expression would see a man who was totally in control, absolutely capable of all his legend pertained.

 

Yet those utterly human eyes betrayed him.  
Those eyes were near mourning; oh, the _misery_ they showcased.

McCoy sighed, unable to understand what it was about James T. Kirk in a quiet mess that made it work like this on him. Jim seemed to be the only man in the universe who could stir sympathy within his cranky, bitter body.

  
"Jim…" McCoy coaxed in a low, gruff voice. It was as tender as the Good Doctor was usually willing to allow. "He  **knows**. Let Scotty do his job."

  
Fury, then a flutter of anguish within hazel eyes.

  
"Bones-"

  
"I’ve _**got** _ him!!" Scotty’s voice was a yelp of a cry, sounding as though he’d been holding that breath in for a thousand years. The bantering friends both snapped their eyes to the transporter pad as a familiar whirring noise consumed the area.

Bones stole a small, private moment to glance at Jim.

Appropriately illustrating the rare, priceless expression that he found there would take one spectacularly cunning gift of description. Luckily, Leonard Bones McCoy has his own colourful yet unique way with words:

 

 

_  
Jesus_. He thought. _It’s like Christmas on a face_.

 

 

  
Spock hadn’t even fully stabilized onto the platform before Jim was living, breathing and moving again, rushing toward the pad as the Vulcan fully materialized into the ships First Officer.

Spock appeared to be mildly surprised to be alive, but that was nothing compared to the surprise he exhibited from finding Jim standing face to face with him. (And by surprised you can imagine two winged raven eyebrows shooting into ruler straight bangs). They stood there for an intense moment, not speaking, only onyx dark eyes combating with thistle-gold. Jim glared Spock down, as though there were nothing in the universe that he would desire more than to reach out with raging, trembling fingers and clamp his hands around that skinny throat.  
  
Then, stunning everyone in the room but himself, Jim grabbed two fistfuls of the Science Officer blue tunic in said shaking fingers and tugged the unsuspecting Vulcan forward into a hard, lingering kiss. All the frustration in the moment lay there passing between their mouths, the fear, the anguish, the heat- and finally, the euphoria; the utter relief as the kiss parted ways on friendly terms.

Scotty’s face had very quickly adapted to the color of his tunic as the Good Doctor bounced on his toes, his ice blue eyes rolling around the room embarrassedly.

Kirk appeared sheepish.

Spock was still recovering.

  
"Gentlemen, my… sincerest apologies. I’m… sorry you had to see that." Jim adjusted his gold tunic, absent minded like a child fidgeting under scrutiny. There was a heavy undercurrent of amusement bristling in the air in the wake of the rather epic, unusual scene between the four good friends. Scotty cleared his throat noisily, shaking out the feeling in his spine that felt a hell of a lot like getting hit by a phaser on stun. But, you know, hey. He’d seen it all anyway. ( _Now_.)

  
"I, believe I kin also speak fer the Doctor here, but there most certainly be no need fer apologies, sir."

  
"You _do_ realize you’re among friends? Or are you two too God damn busy getting fresh to step out of your invisible box to realize that?"

  
"Scotty… Bones…" Jim stood as professionally as he could manage, while the depth of the warmth and appreciation he executed through his eyes alone was threatening to overtake the room. "You have no idea. Thank you."

  
If Spock were human, he probably would have been wearing a very bemused, affectionate smirk. As a Vulcan, it translated into the twitching of the corners of his lips; the slight crinkling of the corners of his eyes.

  
"Doctor McCoy, honestly. There are intervals of time in which I contemplate whether your incessant nagging is worth the effort of beaming back aboard or not."

  
Dark eyes widened at the booming laughter that filled the room ( _and his sensitive ears_ ).

  
"Welcome home, hobgoblin. I‘ll see you in sickbay in an hour. I‘ll keep my examination tools in an ice box, especially reserved for you."

  
"I’ll thank you Doctor for maintaining tradition, if nothing more." The Vulcan turned from the very entertained looking doctor to the still slightly bashful looking engineer standing at the console.

"And I will thank you, Mr. Scott, once more for my continued existence…" An elegantly raised brow. "I am quite certain this will not be the last time."

  
"Ship full of optimists…." Jim’s eyes rolled, his cheery grin betraying his attempt to be annoyed. He turned fully toward McCoy and Scotty, his mood whilst going about exiting radically the opposite of his mood when he was entering.  
  
  
"Gentlemen…" He delivered them a slight bowing head nod of parting, smiling politely, and passed through the door with a hiss. Spock was quick to follow, but Jim’s voice trailed back to him over a shoulder anyway: "Come on, Spock. I want answers to this."

The Vulcan all but joined his humans hip once out in the corridor, falling into perfectly unified step with the smaller man. It felt nice to be safely back home, comfortably back in the spot he desired to be more than any other spot in the universe.

At Jim Kirk’s side.

He could still hear the human’s mind through their bond, coming down off the adrenaline and terror he had not allowed to run rampant on the outside. It was still doing things to Jim’s insides. The aftershock… the weight and panic of it all…

 

_Spock. God **dammit** , Spock…_

 

 

_My apologies, T’hy’la. It was not my intent to grow so alarmingly delayed, nor was is my intent to abandon the duties which I assured you I would complete before I returned._

 

 

_Duties, regulations, little green women or giant demi gods with visions of grandeur- perhaps even a few tellarites in women’s undergarments. I don’t give a shit what you come up with... But!_

 

The stern glare of reiteration that followed caused the raising of not one but two shapely black eyebrows, both in curiosity and impatience. _Really_. Jim could be quite appalling sometimes.  
  
_  
…Don’t you ever make me have to kiss you in front of the guys like that again. Ok? Understand? As in, don’t you ever. … **EVER**. Make me feel like that again. Alright? …Can you just say yes, or pretend to agree, so that I can get back to breathing properly for a little while?_

  
_…A… most illogical request, considering our choice of profession. But I shall endeavour to honour it in every means I am capable of, Jim.  
_

_Yes. Yes, that’ll do for now, and that’s all fine and dandy until the next time, Mr. Spock. Now if its all the same to you, I just want to go to bed. **Please**.  
_

  
A crackle of pure amusement and mirth so intense from Spock’s side of the bond, Jim actually had to look and make sure his straight laced Vulcan wasn’t grinning his smug ass off.

 

__  
  
For a resting period, I assume?

 

 

 

_…Abso **lutely** not, mister..  
          …Don’t even joke about that._

 

**-Fin**

 

\---

 


	2. The Good Doctor's Temper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one came to me the other night and delighted me senseless. It is pretty squee worthy.  
> Recommendation: Keeping a bag to squeal/scream in nearby... just in case.

****  
  
The Good Doctor's Temper

  
 

“Get in, _quick_!”  
  
  
Admiral Kirk urged, erupting a bewildered look from his partner as he randomly shoved him into a small Janitorial closet. Without missing a heartbeat, he promptly pressed the dark haired, exotic looking man against the wall behind him. Not that Spock was unaccustomed to Jim’s randomness…

  
Oh merciful **Surak** , that felt good-

  
But to be wandering up the hall of Starfleet Academy discussing diplomacy between Klingons, and then suddenly ending up in a Janitor’s closet… well, this was a bit much, even by James T. Kirk standards. He barely choked down the sole bubble of human laughter that threatened to push past his **absolutely** not human lips.

  
“Jim? If there is something urgent you would like to discuss-”

  
He was silenced by a set of hungry lips meeting his own in an easy, aggressive dance. It was a heated, skilled mating of teeth, tongue and mouth, confidant and fluid- brought on by years upon years of finely whittled practise with one another. When Kirk finally permitted Spock the use of his mouth again, it was only in exchange for the elegant curve of his throat, pale and beautiful- just begging for attention.

  
“All this talk…” Jim breathed between his ministrations “about the Klingons, has… got me thinking about that time we spent on Organia-”

  
“Yes, I believe our first encounter with them.”

  
“And you tricked them into thinking you were a merchant. You actually managed to fool their mind sifter. And I was unbelievably stupid enough to think that I was going to lose you…” Kirk’s eager hands clawed at the opening to Spock’s red tunic.

  
“Jim. You have never previously been, and are not currently stupid- _Ah_!” Spock gasped quietly, thrilled at the things Jim’s mouth were doing to him. “Interesting choice of discussion leading up to these events- as is your custom.” The Vulcan breathed, his own hands snaking inside Jim’s tunic to access cool, tantalizing flesh.  
  
  
“Well? -oh _Spock,_ **God,** your hands are so hot!- It… _ah_! It _is_ related……”

  
“However loosely…”

  
“I’d consider this a rather urgent discussion, wouldn’t you?” Kirk panted against Spock’s neck, his fingertips tugging and teasing the Vulcan’s jade nipples.

  
“ _Mmm_ … I, **unh** … yes, Jim- I agree, as the idea of losing me has always seemed to elicit this emotional reaction from you… _Oh_! And then always promptly translates into a very intense state of arousal without fail. To leave you in this state would be- AH!” The Vulcan arched helplessly, his control ebbing into the burning need to feel every part of this man’s flesh against his own.  
  
  
"Most, illogical?" Jim finished the sentence slowly and coyly, his Cheshire cat grin in full bloom. He was absolutely aware of what he was doing to the prim man before him. He had an alarming gift of reducing Spock's inhibitions to rubble, and he knew it well. He eased himself up slightly on his toes, letting his pearly whites sink into a delicate ear tip. The sharp intake of breath and shudder he got in response was just what he'd been hoping for, and it fuelled his excitement.  
  
  
“Ahh Jim… **oh** , my _Jim_ …” The taller, raven haired beauty hissed through his teeth. His eyes clamped shut as his fingers gripped Kirk’s tunic so tightly, he feared he might rip it in this utterly heightened state of arousal. “Should… should we not bring the door to a complete close, and take at the very _least_ , the most…” a broken gasp, as Kirk grasped his raging erection through his pants “…minimal, of actions toward discretion- ”  
  
  
“Well, I think you guys are fucked in the head!” A voice far too nearby startled both men out of the reverie, as they had once again found themselves too caught up in what McCoy liked to call their ’invisible box’. Unseen in the darkness of the closet, the pair found that they could easily spot the source as a group of young male cadets inhabiting the scarcely populated hall through the slice of doorway they‘d left open. Curiosity piqued, they were both insatiably (unintentionally) die hard about eavesdropping, when it came to business that was not their own. It wasn’t their fault, really. They’d been doing it for so many years in the line of duty now, it came as naturally as the regular brushing of ones teeth in the morning- they had just forgotten that they even did it routinely anymore. Old habits die hard.

“Really, though. Those two practically set the blueprint for what Starfleet is now.”

“Which is exactly my point! That’s what makes it so embarrassing. I mean sure, the guys practically shaped the fleet. But seriously? A couple fags?”  
  
  
Kirk and Spock looked toward each other, met eyes, then abruptly turned their heads in opposite directions.  
Bad.   
_Very_ bad time to bust out into giggles.  
  
  
“ _Keep it down_! Shit. Someone might hear…”

“Yeah, makes you wonder about Starfleet when a pair of space travelling fairies is the finest they have to offer.”  
  
  
“Fuck, that’s **harsh** , man-”  
  
  
“He’s tellin’ the truth! Dudes are boldly going-”

  
“Yeah, _down_ on one another.”  
  
  
“Would you get into a turbolift with one of them, Chazz?”

“Depends on how it would 'affect my grades', if you follow me.”

“Aw, you’re fuckin’ sick, man!”  
  
  
“ **Guys**! Seriously. You should watch what you’re saying, Christ. Someone’ll hear you…”

“Excuse me…” A friendly voice broke through their hushed exchanges. It sounded quite firm, but in another sense, still delicately feminine. When their eyes rested on the source, she smiled sweetly, eyes darting down toward her feet before they travelled back to the pack of young men again. “Excuse me gentlemen, sorry to interrupt here…” The boys curiosity seemed to be ignited, and neither of them could deny that she was a beautiful woman. Her bright, pale blue eyes were lively, inviting… hypnotic.  
  
  
“Be my guest, sweetheart.” One of them grinned, approaching her with curiosity as he scanned how her long, wavy chestnut hair fell about her shoulders. She was wearing a third years uniform, so the fact that she was an older woman only enticed them further. She met the group the rest of the way, sweet smile still in place, her head barely measuring up to the shortest man’s shoulder.  
  
  
“Pardon my intrusion, just throwing in my two cents here boys, but…” Then her stance unexpectedly changed, her arms unfolding to jab an aggressive finger into the face of the guy who had approached her, and who was still wearing the most shit eating, arrogant grin in the pack. “Do you dipshits have any idea who you're crapping through your face holes about? **Huh**? Or is the word _respect_ elusive to your limited vocabulary?”

Six sets of young, scared little boy eyes exploded to the size of saucers. Suddenly, they looked a lot like frightened toddlers in Starfleet uniforms being scolded.

“Has it ever occurred to either of you that they’ve probably done more in a single **week** than you’ll ever achieve in your lifetime? I mean seriously, those men have been decorated and honoured by Starfleet so many times it’s a wonder they can manage to stand the hell up, with all those badges on their tunics! The school you're standing in right now _is_ the way it _is_ because of them. Now do you think you’ve got the balls to just waltz up and say that shit to the face of Admiral James T. Kirk, or Captain Spock? I think not. Because you know what I think?”

The mammoth eyed, terrified children shook their heads no, throats dry with the useless words caught in them. They could offer no rebuttal to this kind of unexpected onslaught, only stand there like fools and take it in with red faces.

   
“I think that the lot of you are just too God damn insecure to accept the fact that a pair of gay men outdid you long before you even bothered to fall out of your mothers womb. And I’m telling you now, if you’ve got a problem with _homophobia?_ I’d hate to see how long you guys would last out there on a landing party, dealing with strange alien cultures. Something tells me you’ll be the ones touching down on the planet wearing red, because that shit doesn‘t fly around here. There’s no room for it in Starfleet. Have I made my point clear? …Jesus **Christ** , what hole do you guys keep crawling out of every year?… _Idiot_ s.”

Spock and Kirk exchanged wide eyed glances, Kirk looking like he would explode from holding in the laughter at any moment, Spock’s expression leaning a little more towards ‘excuse me but holy _fuck_ , did that just happen?’  
  
  
“ **Told** you guys someone would hear…”  
  
  
Suddenly, a gruff voice cut through the not-so-busy corridors the scene had just taken place in, grabbing the attention of both the girl and the guys she was mercilessly grilling.  
  
  
“Jo, where the _hell_ have you been?” A set of piercing blue eyes locked on to her and progressed their way forward, accented by a mighty scowl. “Well?” The thin man demanded as he stomped closer, licking his lips irritably and letting his eyes flicker wearily over the young men she was standing next to. He instantly decided he didn’t like them, just because they happened to be young men, and only a few feet away from his daughter.  
  
  
“Isn’t that Leonard McCoy?” One guy asked another in a hushed tone, wide eyed and petrified. “Oh God. Oh **God** , he’s coming over. His observations from the 5 year mission are required reading material in my Space Psychology courses!”  
  
  
“I hear he was the first human doctor to successfully carry out an operation on an alien lifeform without any source of reference- he actually revived a Horta using his bare hands and medical knowledge!”

  
“He was Chief Medical Officer on the Enterprise…”

  
“No _shit_. He only served aboard her for 27 years!”

  
The young woman rolled her eyes, having heard this song and dance before, and smiled with bitter, forced friendliness. She inclined her head, the grin false and sickly sweet.  
  
  
“If you gentlemen are finished beating off over my father now… excuse me.” She laughed, turning sharply on her heels without another word.  
  
  
Joanna parted from the group of freshmen cadets, making her way over to her impatient dad. She put an affectionate arm around him and began to walk back down the hall at his side. He was glowering in the aftermath of her less than ladylike closing statement to the cadets behind them.  
  
  
“What have I told you about your attitude while you’re here?”

  
“It wouldn’t be a _problem_ if you never handed it down to me. Have you eaten yet?”  
  
  
“No. Starvin’ here.”

“Surprise, surprise…”  
  
  
“Have you?” He challenged.  
  
  
A pause, followed by a sigh of defeat.  
  
  
“…No.” She glared at him with the same intense scrutiny, her ice blue eyes matching his in their beauty and fierceness. (When Kirk had seen those same kind blue eyes in her little face, it had brought such an unexplained tidal wave of comfort and fondness to his heart that he’d cried over it… and lied about it later.)  
  
  
“Have you slept?” She demanded, stopping their motion to observe the bags under his eyes. “Dad? Have you been up all night in your office again? What have I told you about falling asleep sitting up? Do you have any idea what that‘ll do to your back in a couple of years?”

  
“Oh, I’ve **earned** my right to take a shit on my posture- now stop _nagging_ me girl, and walk with me…”  
  
  
As the young group of men passed him by unknowingly, Spock overheard the cadets discussing in hushed tones who was going to try to ask her out as they made their leave, and it amused him highly. Human males never failed to aim for the unattainable. His own human was evidence of that, and he allowed his fingers to lightly come in contact with Jim’s and tangle. Kirk was still grinning his ass off, straining to hear Bones grumbling and snarling as he made his way up the hall with his daughter.

  
“Well? You were supposed to meet me up at the Obsterics lab an hour and a half ago. You’re worse than your mother when it comes to punctuality. And have you tracked down your Uncles yet?”  
  
  
“Dad, Uncle Jim wasn’t in his office, and chances are Uncle Spock is with him, wherever that is. Chill out. They’ll turn up when you need them, you know how they are… anyway I was in the lab till _three_ last night, so if anyone has work to catch up on, it’s you…”  
  
  
“Well come on then, _mouth_. I want to see what progress you’ve made…”

  
“Dad, don’t call me mouth here! We‘re at school…” She hissed angrily, with classic McCoy venom.  
  
  
“Don’t **be** one and you won’t get it, God dammit. Do you want chicken for lunch?”  
  
  
“I’m not having fried chicken for lunch, and neither are you. You‘ve got to eat better if you ever plan on seeing me get married.”  
  
  
“And on that day I’ll be there, drinking away my want to strangle whoever takes my little girl away. Now you listen to me good, mouth, as I‘m getting sick and tired of sayin’ this. You won’t deny me my country style chicken… I’m old, _Jesus_ girl- I can eat what I want!”  
  
  
“You’re eating the salad I made you and you’ll like it.”

  
“I won’t.”  
  
  
  
“You _will_ , or I’ll tell you about the first time I had sex.”

  
“Now you hold on just a **God damn** minute!”

  
The lift doors at the end of the hall closed on their lively conversation, and left the corridor in peace once again.

  
Jim nodded, pressing his lips together, brows raised high.

  
“Yup. The, uh… resemblance, is… quite horrifying.”

  
A slow nod from Spock, as his startled eyebrows slowly came out of hiding from underneath his bangs.

  
“Yes, Jim. I see now that I was indeed in error. Up until this moment, I had seen no evidence of your alleged previous statements. But following this incident, I am forced to consent. She most certainly does bear an uncanny talent in replicating the Good Doctors temper.”

  
  
**_-Fin_ **

\---  
  
Because I like to think there's no room for homophobia on our planet **now** , nevermind in a thousand years. Viva McCoy's, because we need people like them in the world to air out the bullshit.  
  
<3 Until next time, lovelies!


End file.
